


Male Reader X The Female Bowers Gang

by CampGreen



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Horror, Literature, Multi, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 00:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13647237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampGreen/pseuds/CampGreen
Summary: Probably shouldn't read this if bullying is a big sore spot for you. The Bowers Gang is from Stephen King's It.





	1. Bullied

One of the few things you enjoy about school. Matball. PE is usually the worst, having to destroy your pride in front of all your friends and the jocks by sucking at workouts, but every Thursday your struggles are rewarded with a game. Dodgeball's the best but kickball is a decent enough runner-up. It's also a shame you have to play indoors thanks to the rain, but beggars can't be choosers. You stand in the outfield, watching your opponents zip from base to base (well, mat to mat) atop the glossy wooden floor of the basketball court. One of the overachievers on the opposing team sends the ball soaring onto the stage, rejected by the mascot painted onto the concrete wall so it bounces down the stairs and into a crack in the girl's changing room's door. Home-run.

Since you're closest, you go and fetch it, scampering into the dark, forbidden territory. You stumble around in the blackened locker room until the rubber of a playground ball scraps upon against your nails. Right as you throw the ball back into the game, you hear something in your ear. Wet kisses and giggles and little moans, like someone's making out in the darkness. Then silence. Then lights flick on, blinding you with white. You can feel yourself getting jumped and wrestled around in those few seconds of stupefying light. When your eyes stop stinging and your senses readjust, your arms are locked in two incomplete Indian burns, the door is slammed closed, and you shit your pants upon realizing who you've just made enemies with. The Bowers Gang. You'd be better off pissing on rabid pitbulls. To your right is Trish Hocksletter, a pasty degenerate with shaggy black hair and a wannabe biker getup. To your left is Vicki Criss, a school-shooter-looking Aryan wearing her brother's hand-me-downs from his time in the Marines.

Right up in your face, _"Well, well, well,"_ spits the worst of them all, Henri Bowers, in mangled black jeans, a couple of wrist bands, and a red t-shirt, peaked with a choppy swirl of dirty blonde hair. _"What's a sophomore twink doing poking around the girl's locker room? Hoping to steal a few sick glances?"_

_"I-I-I was just getting the ball, I swear!"_

_"Why, couldn't find your own? Who am I kidding, you never had any to begin with."_

_"Y-Yes, I do!"_ you pitifully protest after Vicki and Trish have their wicked laugh at Henri's stupid joke.

 _"Is that so?"_ Vicki asks in your ear as she lets go of your arm and gets behind you. _"Well, you won't after this!"_

She seizes two handfuls of your underwear and, with one loud screech of elastic ripping, yanks them over your face like a plastic bag trying to suffocate you. The white briefs excruciatingly floss your buttcheeks as you're crippled with pain and blinded by your waistband. Without your sight, you're left to focus on the three sets of sadistic laughter confining you as you fall to your knees with the fly of your undies ruthlessly crushing your testicles. Trish grabs your face and burns her gaze through the thin curtain of elastic pressing against the top half of your head. 

_"Still not convinced? What about now?"_

With all her might, she yanks down even further, giving you a wedgie so atomic you would've once thought impossible. Despite your briefs still firmly hugging your thighs and head, your waistband reaches out to your bellybutton from above. If the first pull strangled your taint, this one broke its neck, as well as the fibers in your underwear. The thing is halved with another cringeworthy shred, and you topple onto the floor with napalm ravaging everything below your waist. 

The torn base of your undies hang behind you like the most pathetic cape imaginable. The rest is just a white ribbon of elastic in Trish's hands. She tosses the tatter to Vicki, who snatches it in its feather-like glide through the air. Just like the perverted freak she is, she stuffs it in her face and takes a big shameless huff of it. Henri plunges her hand down into her jeans and harshly peels her panties off her legs with a sickening SNAP! The ripped, pink strip of cotton is soaked with... something. 

_"Hungry?"_

She muffles your plea for mercy by cramming the moist elastic nugget into your mouth with two of her fingers. You try coughing out the wad of sopping fabric and its accompanying biting taste, but it's stuck between your cheeks like a ball gag.

 _"Holy shit, Henri, sick!"_ Trish guffaws in a mixture of disgust and amusement. 

_"Now let's make sure he doesn't play with his food,"_ Vicki asserts with a snarl. 

She stomps you in the back of your frizzled hair to pin your head to the floor. With militaristic rope tying skills likely straight from her leatherneck brother, she essentially handcuffs your wrists to your back with a knotted sliver of your briefs. Your helplessness is cemented as you're gagged and restrained by a pair and a half of underwear. Henri drags you to your feet by your hair and slams your face up against an empty locker, bruising your cheek.

_"You like the girl's changing room, huh? Well, how about a whole night in it?"_

Your shoulders are squished in between the walls of the silver wardrobe you're stuffed into. Almost everything goes dark when they slam the door in your face, trapping you inside a cramp box of metal. 

_"Enjoy the stay, loser!"_ Trish's maniacal voice echos as they depart the changing room.

After their harsh laughter fades, you're left in silence and mostly blackness. Can't scream for help thanks to your gag, can't bang on the walls thanks to your restraints. You tucker yourself out after what feels like hours of fruitless struggling and thrashing, and eventually slip into sleep with nothing else to do.


	2. Peeping Tom

You later awake and can tell by the harsh grogginess and cramp muscles that you've been asleep for an extremely long time. As a matter of fact, you might've just spent the entire night in the girl's changing room just as they intended.

Thank God your parents are out of town, otherwise they'd be worried sick. Well rested after a grueling day's worth of bullying, you're of course still trapped in the locker, wrists bound together behind your back and mouth stuffed with Henri's panties. A familiar, distant barrel of laughter approaches. As seen through the slits of the locker, three girls enter the dressing room. The very three same girls who crammed you in here to begin with. Their knuckles are recently bloodied and they're in their gym uniforms, seemingly fresh off a basketball game.

 _"Holy shit, the look on those fags' faces!"_ Trish cackles as as they all pop into their respective lockers.

 _"That'll teach those pricks to never play Derry again,"_ Vicki continues whilst digging around for her camo cargo pants. 

The Bowers Gang are notoriously brutal bullies even on the court. They don't play for their school, they play because it gives them an excuse to torture out-of-townies as savagely as they can. They seem to have forgotten they've imprisoned you in here. For you, this has been one of the worst experiences of your life, but for them, it's something that's slipped their minds in only a day. Your sorrow and hatred is blurred when they start undressing though. 

Your dick fattens up at the sight of them letting their tits hang out from their jerseys, especially Trish, dear God, and their tight shorts slipping off their legs to expose their tan lines and well-built, sweaty bodies. You notice and are not surprised that Trish is being just as much of a Peeping Tom as you, finishing early just so she can divert her full attention towards Henri's breasts as they jiggle from her replacing her jersey with her typical red t-shirt. She notices that Henri is struggling a bit, trying to cram her strapping thighs into the same ragged pair of jeans she's worn since the ninth grade.

 _"What's the matter, Henri?"_ Trish chirps with a suggestive husk in her voice as she looms behind her classmate. "Need some help?"

 _"Fuck off, I'm trying to change here,"_ Henri protests as her face warms up and she gets her pants to her waist.

Trish runs her hands up Henri's naked, chiseled stomach, making her shudder with delight. Your penis recoils. 

_"S-...Sto..."_ Henri tries to kid herself but fails.

In their scan of her sweat-drenched chest, Trish's palms land on and wrap around Henri's breasts, which she wastes no time pinching by the nipples. Henri goes to stop her but is shaken off guard by the ensuing pleasure. Your penis completely swells up against your gym shorts, then against the inside of the locker, your head straining against the metal. Trish reassigns one of her hands to Henri's pants, slipping two of her fingers into the waistband of her torn up jeans before apparently plunging her pussy, as evident by her wails of nirvana suddenly peaking in frequency. The combination of one of her nipples and clitoris being lovingly twisted is enough to drive Henri, or any woman for that matter, to an orgasm that would've taken her off her feet had Trish not been spooning her from behind. 

As if her final whimper of indulgence isn't enough to tip you off that her lotus-eating's reached a climax, clear sap trickles out of her pants leg and pools in between her toes. Your quaking knees lock as, without even the slightest of physical stimulation, you too get your insides blown out through your urethra in one thunderous discharge that permanently soils your shorts. A mess, the exhausted Henri melts into Trish's arms. Red, hot, tired, guilty, disgusted, hateful, and angry. You assume that the afterglow sedates her enough to keep her from mauling Trish. From behind, Trish bites down on Henri's lips with a firm kiss. Arbitrarily at her breaking point, Henri tears herself out of her lustful hug and meets her smooch with a punch to the nose, bloodily breaking it open a little bit. 

_"HEY!"_ Henri snaps. _"Knock that shit off, I ain't no dyke!"_

Trish wipes the blood off her face after recovering from the stumble. _"You liked it,"_ she bitterly mumbles under her breath. 

_"Shut up, slut!"_ she barks as she ties her boots on a bench. _"I swear to God, if you tell anyone about this, I'll break your neck in front of the whole school!"_

 _"Fine, whatever,"_ Trish crosses her arms and churlishly looks to the side.

 _"You too, Vicki!"_ Henri throws in as she swipes her dirty, bloodied gym uniform off the floor.

 _"Hey, I didn't see shit,"_ Vicki reassures with her hands jokingly raised like she's surrendering.

 _"Now go make yourself useful and put these somewhere!"_ as she dumps her dirty clothes in Vicki's hands.

 _"Of course, your highness,"_ Vicki sighs as she...heads straight for the locker you're in.

This is going to be the worst day of your life. 


	3. Run

She opens the locker and it's over. You've been watching this whole scene unfold akin to a disembodied audience member, but now you're yanked from your seat and onto the stage. All three of the girls look at you just like deer in headlights. Their shock soon turns to rage. 

_**"YOU'VE BEEN WATCHING US THIS ENTIRE TIME?!"**_ Henri screeches. It's just an example of all the things she's saying right now, all at the top of her lungs.

 _"That's kinda hot..."_ you can just barely hear Trish over all the screaming.

You fearfully try to stumble out an explanation, but it couldn't be more futile. Not only have these three lunatics made up their minds the second they realized you watched them experiment with each other, but your cries for forgiveness are muffled by the draws that's been stuffed in your mouth for a solid 24 hours. Vicki drops the clothes in her hands and rips you out of the locker by your collar, flinging you into the heart of the changing room so you're even deeper in the center of attention. Henri grabs you by the back of your neck and flicks her the blade of her pocketknife out before slicing you from your restraints, literally panting and seething with rage.

_"You like spying on girls in the locker room, huh, creep? **HUH, YOU SICK FUCKING PERV!** "_

You desperately try to remind her she's the whole reason you were trapped in the locker room in the first place, but you end up just sounding like Kenny from _South Park_. She drags you over to the changing room's stall and tears her underwear out of your mouth. Right before a word can escape your throat, you're kissing the inside of a toilet bowl, getting your head held underneath the thankfully crystal clean water as it's flushed a few times. You sputter, scream, and gurgle for about a minute before Henri finally relents and lets you come up for a breath of air. 

_"How's it taste?"_ Trish asks, before forcing her tongue in between your lips, not able to care any less about the fact that you just had to use toilet water as mouthwash. After getting her fun, she throws you to the floor. 

_"What do you figure, ladies?"_ Henri questions as she cools down. _"What's the worst way we can make this fag suffer?"_

 _"Put him in the mascot costume and light him on fire,"_ Trish suggests.

 _"Let's go to the weight room and drop a couple dumbbells on his stomach,"_ Vicki proposes.

Knowing full-well that these three girls are about to kill you, you quickly scramble to your feet and fire out the locker room. 

_**"GET THAT MOTHERFUCKER!"**_ Henri's bellowing voice echos throughout the gym like a sound chamber. 

You charge into the first thing you see - the gym's side door. With no where else to go, you blindly sprint into the school's backyard, the modest growth of forestry encompassing Derry. You're chased deep into the town's rural parts, down a timber-caged highway with the sun about to set against the backdrop. As you pant your lungs out, you steal a glance behind you and nearly have a heart attack at what you see. All three of them are right on your heels. You should've known. You've seen them at gym practice and at a few games. The girls are cheetahs when it comes to speed. Henri lashes forward like the vicious animal she is and tackles you to the ground, weathered with grass, straw, and leaves. You try to struggle underneath her superior strength but once the other two join in on the dog pile, your fate is sealed. You're thrown back up to your feet and pinned against a highway guardrail. 

_"Oh, (Y/N),"_ Trish sighs as Henri harmlessly but threateningly traces a beard across your cheeks with her pocket knife, making you whimper in a fear for your life. _"If you keep trying to get away like that, you're gonna get lost. And we can't have that, can we?"_

Henri continues Trish's point as she pulls your gym shirt over your face, suffocating you with cotton and exposing your whole torso. _"Dogs have collars for a reason. How about I carve my name into your stomach so everyone knows who you belong to?"_

You tearfully beg against it but your shirt has you muffled like a burlap sack. The tine of a pocket-knife slices its way into your skin and slowly draws five letters across your abs. Blood pours from each letter and into your waistband. Trish scrubs your midriff down with her tongue until you stop bleeding, leaving only a _**"HENRI"**_ shaped scar. 

_"You're an artist, Henri,"_ Vicki compliments.

 _"Yeah, I'm an artist 'cause I can write my own fucking name, fucking retard. Anyways, wanna have some fun, girls?"_ Henri asks as she pantses you so your shorts pool around your ankles and expose your package. If only you still had underwear to censor it with...


	4. Your Dog House

The other two girls giggle as they ready for a fourway. Henri makes things fair by pulling her jeans down too, just past her buttcheeks, and laying flat on her belly on the side of the road. The smooth, tanned skin of her ass pops out against the black denim of her jeans, the red cotton of her t-shirt, and the green grass of the ground she lays upon. Trish forces you to mount Henri with a shove and crams your cock into her ass-crack. She proceeds to pull her pants down a bit as well, just to show off her glistening pussy, then lock backs with Henri before sheathing your dickhead from upside down with her mouth and swirling her tongue around your urethra to friskily pet and prod it. In the meanwhile, Henri twerks so her quaking cheeks massage the few parts of your member that aren't being soaked in Trish's drool. Two different but equally heavenly kinds of pleasures please two parts of your lucky manhood. Vicki orbits the threesome, perfectly content with just watching through her phone camera, with a vile grin. Though she can't help herself but to shove your head into Trish's crotch and force you to eat her out as she tries swallowing your penis. Your eyes almost roll into the back of your head as you're smothered by the wet crevice between Trish's thighs. Feels just like that swirlie you narrowly survived a few minutes ago. 

Vicki finally lets go, however, letting you dip back up so you're on your hands and knees, coughing much of the pussy juice right back up. In the back of your mind, you hear a car approaching. Maybe you'll finally be saved! But alas, the car merely swoops by the four of you as you fuck on the side of the highway. Several more pass, and none of them care. Hell, a few of them even slow down and watch, or snap a few pics or videos. You recognize one of the cars that can't help but take a gallery. It's one of your fucking teachers! Man, this town is really messed up... Like an open tube of toothpaste getting its tail stomped on, a blast of gooey cock snot fires from out your dick, coating Trish's front from her chin to the cracks of her half-eaten cunt. The two woozily get back to their feet, leaving you in a ditch to writhe in the strange but scared satisfaction. Vicki gets on her knees and bites down on Trish's vulva, dragging her tongue from there all the way up into her mouth just to mop up the vine of cum you were forced to paint her with. Trish's shudder of ecstasy is cut off when Vicki frenches her for a few seconds, getting their spit messily entangled.

 _"You two are such dykes,"_ Henri scoffs with her arms crossed, looking away in disgust. They're too deep into one another to care.

She takes her rage out on you, still crumpled in the ditch, beating you into unconsciousness with a outbreak of punches, kicks, and spits. Right before all of the brain trauma gets to you, you hear Trish's muffled voice go _"Wait, you're gonna kill him?!"_

_"Worse."_

Your eyes fade back into the ugly interior of an unkempt basement. One of your wrists is handcuffed to a pipe, you're still in nothing but your gym shirt and tube socks, and a showerhead hangs above your scalp. A glass of water and a slapped-together sandwich both sit atop a plate in front of you. Your hesitation is short thanks to your gnawing stomach. It feels like you haven't eaten in days. Oh wait, you literally haven't... You gobble every crumb of the sandwich and chug every drop of the water. After your meal settles, you tug at your restraint, in vain, of course. You look around your very limited arm space for something to break the handcuffs but everything's just barely out of reach. Then you here muffled voices coming from the floor above.

 _"Won't your mom notice a pair of her cuffs are missing and freak?"_ you can make out from Vicki upstairs.

 _"Stupid bitch'll be too drunk to ever care, don't worry,"_ answers Henri right as she gets up to the door. It opens and your three terrorizers descend down the creaky basement stairs.

 _"Oh, what do you know,"_ Henri exclaims. _"(Y/N)'s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."_

_"W-W-What the fuck is this?! Why am I chained up in your basement?!"_

_"I killed my dog last week, wanted another pet."_

_"I thought it was a cat,"_ Vishi throws in.

_"Oh, no, that was something else. Yeah, I'm not great with animals. Third time's the charm, though, right?"_

_"Y-You can't keep me in here forever! Someone will notice!"_

Henri chuckles. _"My mom's a cop, kid. I know first hand. The adults, the authorities of this town are worthless. You're gonna live in here and you're gonna die in here. Just make it easier on yourself and get comfortable. C'mon, I make a decent sandwich, don't I?"_

_"Fuck you!"_

Henri fiercely slaps you across the face hard enough to bust your lip and draw some blood. _"I guess not. Well, maybe you can at least admit that I give a good fuck?"_ she asks as she rakes her tongue up the underside of your shaft.

 _"You sure do, baby,"_ Trish confirms in your place.

 _"Shut up, dyke!"_ Henri pops your dick out of her mouth just to say that.

_"Hmph."_

Henri's two cronies join in on the fun. All three of them pass your body around like a joint. You repeat Henri's words in your head as you clench your eyes shut to retreat from your rape. 

Just make it easier on yourself and get comfortable. 

Vicki and Trish both bite down on your nipples and fill your stomach with rapture. 

Just make it easier on yourself and get comfortable. 

Henri sucks on your balls until her tongue feels an eruption coming forth.

Just make it easier on your _SELF **AND...**_

get comfortable...  



End file.
